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Page 382
sciously, he was incapable of failing to defend himself to the uttermost in a battle situation. He could hold himself back from fighting at the peak of his skill and poweras he did toward the end of the duel with Arundel, as he did in any training session with his squires in mock combatbut he did not know how to fake a defense. Moreover, such an act would smack to him of cowardice. However reasonable and logical it might seem, however unlikely that anyone but himself would ever know what he had done, he could not do it nor even think of it other than as a jest. He would know. He would be smirched in his own eyes. He would begin to sink down into what his "unremembered" father had been.
Besides, Ian was enjoying himself. As activity loosened his cramped muscles, his normal pleasure in combat swamped any thought outside the duel itself. The field was opening up as pairs of fighting knights advanced and retreated beyond the original close-packed lines. Pembroke's nephew, Sir John Marshal, moved in from the right to engage Arundel, and Ian found himself challenged by the Earl of Wenneval. He had never crossed swords with the gentleman before, although he knew him as one of John's and Salisbury's intimates. A decent man, although not too clever, was Ian's judgment. Nonetheless, he fenced cautiously. Stupidity did not necessarily imply inability in arms. Look at that blockhead Arundel. He was as fine a fighter as you would look for anywhere.
The paradox did not exist in Wenneval, however, Ian soon found. The man was mediocre in skill as well as in person and mind. Ian feinted viciously with his shield and, as Wenneval brought his own shield wide to counter the blow, raised his sword to strike Wenneval's weapon from his hand from the inside. At the last moment, however, Ian remembered that Wenneval had wanted Alinor once. Having gained that greatest of all prizes for himself, Ian was ready to forgo the lesser

 
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